Stormy Skies Are Gray
by Author Incognito
Summary: Peter runs into some trouble as Spider-Man, and Tony is there to help him in any way that he can. But that doesn't matter to Peter. After all, it is all his fault.


Peter swings through the air, the hustle and bustle of New York City lays below him. It's raining, and Peter pretends that that is the reason as to why his eyes and cheeks are wet. He doesn't know where he's going. Just knows that he has to go somewhere. Anywhere. Wherever that somewhere was, he hoped that he would find it soon.

A particularly large clap of thunder startles him, and he falls through the air. Luckily, there is a building just ten feet below him. He crashes into it, wincing as he feels the inevitable bruises beginning to form on his body.

Peter shakes his head, dazed and confused, trying to figure out precisely where he is. It was extremely difficult to tell with the pouring rain, but he was able to make out that he was somewhere that was very tall and brightly lit with colored fluorescent lights. A tall and shining building in the middle of the Big Apple. Well, that was going to be very helpful to him, considering that were several other buildings just like this one spread throughout the city.

Peter takes several deep breaths, trying to calm his racing heart. He sniffed, and he lifted his mask up so that he is able to wipe his running nose. He longed to take his mask completely off and just hold his face in his hands, but he forces himself not to. After all, he didn't know who might have been watching him at that very moment. So, instead he settles on lying down on the cold, hard roof and curling himself up into a ball. He presses his hands against his ears, trying to drown out the noise around him. But it's in vain. The booming of the thunder slowly starts turning into . . . oh no. Ohgodohgodohgodohgodohgodohgod. He shakes his head fiercely, attempting to get that memory out of his head. Stopitstopitstopitstopitstopitstopit.

There's a hand on his shoulder. Without thinking Peter lashes out, flipping the other person over onto their back. The result is both a lot of groaning and a lot of swearing. A voice that Peter recognizes. Mr. Stark? What is he doing here?

"Well, this is my tower." Mr. Stark tells him. Huh. Peter must have said that out loud.

Mr. Stark stands up slowly, wincing in pain. "Kid," he begins cautiously, as if he was unsure of what to say. "What's wrong?"

"I'm fine." Peter says with a laugh that quickly turns into a sob.

"Sure you are." Tony retorts. "Now, come on. Let's get you inside before you start getting sick.

The next thing Peter knows he's curled up in a large, comfy armchair with several blankets wrapped around him and a mug of steaming hot chocolate grasped in his hands. He sips at it, the scorching hot liquid burning his tongue. His mask if off, laying down on the coffee table that sits before him. Tony is perched in the seat opposite him, looking at him worriedly.

"Spider-Man. . . Peter, are you all right?"

Yes, his brain says. "No." his mouth says.

"Can you tell me what happened?" Tony asks, leaning forward in his chair.

Peter doesn't answer him, choosing instead to stare down at his drink, watching as the mini marshmallows slowly melted away into nothing.

"Come on kid. You gotta tell me what happened. I can't read your mind."

Peter swallows hard. "I was out on patrol." He begins slowly, wiping his damp hair out of his face. "You know. Same as usual. And I came across this group of guys fighting. And everything was going fine. More than fine. Great actually. And then one of them pulled out a gun and I just- I panicked." Panicked because the last thing that his uncle had ever seen was the barrel of a gun pointed toward him. Panicked because itwashisfaultitwashisfaultitwashisfaultitwashisfaultitwashisfaultitwas- oh god he can't breathe. Why can't he breathe? Peter's hands are shaking violently, spilling droplets of the hot liquid over his hands.

Tony swears and takes the cup out of his hands, setting it down beside of his mask. He takes Peter's hands, which have apparently curled up into fists without Peter noticing.

Tony says something, but the sound of the gun firing thunder rumbling drowns his words out. There is someone whimpering close by, and it takes him a long time to realize that the noises are coming from himself. What is wrong with him? Why can't he just breathe? It's so simple. Why can't he just do it?

It takes what seems to be a lifetime, but eventually Peter starts to breathe again. First with breaths that were short and fast and didn't really seem to help him at all. But after a little while longer, he is able to take several long deep breaths and is able to calm his beating heart. He lifts his head up and sees that Tony looks even more worried than he had before.

"Wha- what was that?" Peter croaks out.

Tony pats him on the shoulder. "You had a panic attack." He says carefully.

Immediately, Peter starts to feel ashamed, and his cheeks turn a bright red. "Oh, god. Mr. Stark." He says with his face in his hands. "I am so sorry." Peter feels Tony lift his chin up.

"Hey, come on, kid. Don't apologize for that. That was something that you could not control."

Peter shakes his head in disbelief. "No, I should have -" He begins to say, but Tony quickly interrupts him.

"Hey, look at me. Do you think that all of those anxiety attacks that I have had were my fault?"

Peter stares at him blankly. Tony Stark - the Tony Stark - having panic attacks? Peter was not able to comprehend it.

"You mean you have?" Tony nod somberly. "Then why didn't I . . . ?"

"Why didn't you know about it?" Tony finishes for him.

Peter nods his head, pulling the blankets tighter around him. It's not cold in the tower, but for some reason he is shivering violently. He can't seem to stop shaking. And on top of that Peter feels absolutely exhausted, which also doesn't make any sense.

"Well, kid, I thought that to have the public know those things about me would have them think less of me or the Avengers.

"Why would they do that?" Peter asked.

"Well, if they feel that if we cannot help ourselves, then would they really feel that the Avengers are capable of protecting them?

"I guess not." Peter mumbled.

"Exactly. And that Is why I haven't revealed that information to the public. Now, Peter, if you don't mind me asking, what exactly happened? Was the gun fired at any point?"

"Yes." Peter says softly, hanging his head.

"Did anyone get . . . hurt." Tony asks carefully, as if he was afraid of triggering another panic attack from Peter.

"N-no. He missed. He was angry, and his hands were shaking. The bullet just hit a wall. But Mr. Stark, I should have taken the gun away from him the moment that I saw that he had it. I shouldn't have let him fire it at all!"

"Peter, listen to me. Did you know that he had a gun?" Tony asked him.

"Well, no, but - "

"Did you shoot the gun yourself?"

"No! But I -"

"Then how on Earth is it your fault?"

"Because I could've stopped it!" Peter screamed out, standing up in a rage. The blankets fell down, some landing on the floor, some on the coffee table. In the process they knocked over Peter's now lukewarm cup of hot chocolate.

"Oh, my God. Mr. Stark, I am so sorry." Peter apologized profusely as he looked frantically around for something to clean up the mess.

"Don't worry about it, Peter. "I'll clean it up later." Tony said, standing up and moving Peter's mask out of the way, which thankfully had been spared.

"Now, listen to me, people like us tend to make mistakes every now and then. And sometimes that causes other people to be caught in the crossfire, and you'll have to watch out for that in the future. But what happened tonight was not your fault. You got scared. It could have happened to anyone. And it's not your fault that you got scared. Do you understand me?"

Peter shrugged. "I guess so."

Now what do you say that you go swing on home to your Aunt May."

"My Aunt! Oh my god what time is it?" Peter asked frantically, pulling at his hair.

Tony glanced down at his wristwatch. "It is currently 1:30 in the morning. Well, 1:33, to be exact."

Peter sank back down into his chair. "1:30 . . . oh god she's going to kill me." Peter moaned out.

"Well, I highly doubt that." Tony said smiling at him.

"Oh, yes she will!" Peter said, grabbing his mask. "I have to go now!" He made to stand up, but Tony forced him back down.

"What are you?" Peter asked, confused.

"Listen, why don't you just spend the night here?"

"Um, what?"

"I'll call your aunt and tell her that I summoned you over for something and that we has lost track of time. So, I was just going to let you spend the night since it was so late."

"Er, thanks, Mr. Stark, but I can just swing on home. Really, I can!" Peter added after seeing the look of disbelief on Tony's face.

"Uh, no offence, kid, but you look like you're gonna fall over at any time."

"No, I don't." Peter said, yawning loudly.

"See." Tony said, gesturing at him.

Peter frowned. "That proves nothing."

"That proves everything." Tony told him.

"Fine." Peter said, because he truthfully was very tired. "But just so you know my Aunt will probably yell at you."

"I'll prepare myself for that." Tony said as he picked up the fallen blankets from the floor and put them back on top of Peter.

"And she'll also want me to have complete access to your entertainment system." Peter said as his eyes began to droop.

"I'm sure that she will." Tony said to Peter with a laugh, but Peter was already asleep.


End file.
